


To Keep You Safe

by bristow



Series: Alternates [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, F/M, First Meetings, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 03:18:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1413076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bristow/pseuds/bristow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which grant is given the task of tracking down & bringing in an <i>artifact of unknown origin</i>: one jemma simmons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Version One

**Author's Note:**

> so this story has two versions: version one (which i wrote after midnight one night. no judging.), which i prefer by the way, and version two (which i wrote in an hour and immediately regretted. judging accepted.) i'll leave it up to you which one you like the best!

_"You just need to take it easy, ok?"_

_"Easy? How can I take it easy? What's happening to me?"_

_"Calm down, ok? I'm here to help you."_

_"Help me? Who-who are you? Why do I need help?"_

_"Jemma, my name's Grant and look, I know you're scared right now-"_

_"Scared? Everything's shaking, li-like I'm-I'm in the middle of an earthquake or something! Scared, I'm **bloody terrified!** No, no you stay back!"_

_"You'll be ok, alright? You'll be ok. Now just stop backing up, Jemma! Just stop and come here-"_

_"Come where? No, no I'm not-not going any-"_

_"Jemma!"_

She woke with a start, on a bed in a room somewhere, filled with darkness and shadows. Blinking her eyes, she looked down at her hands, tied down with thick braces to the bed. She wriggled, trying in vain to somehow free herself but only managing to chaff her skin instead. She let her head fall back, her breaths coming in sharp intakes, like an invisible brace was constricting around her throat, her chest feeling like it was on fire.

"That'll just hurt you more."

"Yeah, thanks. I got that." Jemma replied, peering into the darkness in front of her to find the voice. "Why are you skulking in the shadows?"

"I'm not skulking." Grant stepped out, coming to stand at the foot of Jemma's bed. "I'd call it more... _observing._ "

"Observing? Well, whatever lets you sleep at night." He smiled, pulling a chair out from seemingly nowhere to sit next to her. "I thought you were here to help me?"

"I am."

"Well I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but this doesn't seem all that helpful to me." He smiled again, watching her with an unnerving calmness, almost like he knew something Jemma didn't. Jemma hated that kind of look. "Well are you going to untie me, Mister Secret Agent or what?"

"Not yet. We have to let the injection do it's work."

"Not yet? Why am I- wait, what?" Jemma twisted her head to look at Grant, "What injection? And why does my chest feel like it's on fire?"

"Because I shot you."

"You **shot** me?" She exclaimed, trying to sit upright but only falling back when a shooting pain hit her like a poker, "Why did you do that?"

"You were going to implode, I had to."

"Implode? I'm asleep and this is a dream, isn't? A bad one, I might add. And I would totally not be tied down on this bed either." He leaned forward in his chair, crossing his hands calmly in front of him.

"You've contracted a form of...virus if you will, of alien origin. The virus wasn't meant for humans to carry so it reacts rather violently with its host instead of doing what it's supposed to do, cure the host of whatever disease they may carry. Instead, in trying to cure something that doesn't exist, it causes things like nose bleeds, an uncontrollable form of telekinesis-"

"And let me guess, internal combustion of my organs and blood vessels, resulting in me, well imploding, and basically bringing everything around me along too?" Grant smiled, looking at Jemma with an impressed look.

"That's right. But there's no need to worry about it anymore."

"Oh, so you've taken it out of me then?

"Well," he paused shifting in his chair, "No, but it's under control."

"Under control?" Jemma asked, glancing down at her braced arms, "Is that code for _'we have no idea how to fix it so, good luck, you're on your own now'_?"

"No, that's code for _'we can't take it out if you just yet, as don't have the cure at this point. But it's under control, it can't hurt you and there's no way I'm letting you go thru it alone.'_ "

"You mean I can't..." Jemma stammered, "I'm not going to be able to walk out of here, am I?"

"No," Grant said gently, "But it's not like that. You're not a prisoner, you'll be free to leave just as soon as you recover."

"To go where? Home?" Grant looked down, discomfort on his face for the first time.

"Your home is gone now, Jemma." He said, "But I'm here to offer you a new one."

"A new home?" Jemma whispered. "Where?" He looked back at her, smiling softly as he took her hand.

"You have gifts Jemma. And I'm not talking about... _that_ ," he said, waving a hand, "I'm talking about your gifts with science. We could use you around here. You'd be given everything you wanted and needed, an apartment-"

"And what about a family? _My family_?" Jemma demanded, trying to take her hand away from his, but he held fast.  
"I don't have anybody, and-and that may sound selfish, I know but-"

"No, no it's not. Not at all," he said quickly, placing his other hand over the one he held, "No, I know you're scared, Jemma. I'd be scared out of my damn mind if I was going thru what you are right now. But you're not alone. I'll be here for you, all the way."

"Why? Why are you doing this, you don't even know me." He swallowed, gently squeezing her hand.

"Because you're special and you need a friend and I-" he stopped, letting go of her hand, "I want to protect you I guess. Keep you safe."

"You shot me." Grant laughed, pushing his chair back as he stood.

"That I did." He looked at Jemma, slowly backing away, "You'll be alright. Trust me." He nodded, walking away and leaving Jemma alone in the darkness that for some reason didn't seem so dark after all.

"Grant?" She called after him. He stopped at the door, one hand on the wall, turning to look back at her.

"Thank you." He smiled and nodded again before turning.

"Always."


	2. Version Two

Swords, boxes, shields, spears, guns, helmets of various sizes and shapes. These were the things that Grant Ward associated with _artifacts of unknown origin_ , or things that nobody knew anything about and scared the shit outta most of them. Never had he associated a person with those words. Sure, there’d been people involved, whether by choice or by force, indirectly or as a result of something else entirely. But he’d yet to come across an assignment that involved such an....interesting artifact. She sat on the park bench, reading a book the size of a brick, only pausing to turn the page or re-adjust her glasses every now and then. Grant sat at a table outside some cafe, pretending to take his time with his coffee and the very interesting book that was on his tablet, instead of focusing all his attention on the woman sitting in the park opposite him. Sure, that was his job after all. But why did he really want her to look up, just so he could see what colour her eyes really were? He shook his head slightly, shifting awkwardly in his chair. _Focus; yeah that’s what I need. Focus_. He shifted his attention from the tablet slightly, as the overly friendly waitress asked if he wanted a refill in his coffee. When he returned his attention back, he finally got his wish as a pair of crystal eyes stared right into his.

“What are you doing?” Grant started, swearing under his breath. He closed his eyes, clearing his throat as he looked up at the woman standing over him.

“What am I doing?” He repeated. “Do I know you?” Why exactly did he sound like a 15 year old?

“You’ve been watching me.” She said, shoving her glasses up with a slightly shaking finger. Grant swallowed, looking up at her.

“Have I?” And why did she have to smell so _damn_ nice? “Really?” She cocked her head slightly, narrowing her eyes at Grant.

“Yes, you have,” She said slowly, “And I want to know why.”

“Why?” Grant repeated, “I’ve been watching you?”

“Yes!” She raised her voice, pointing a finger in Grant’s direction as he gripped the table, the glass rattling as it shook slightly, “So you have been watching me, you admit it!”

“Look lady,” Grant started, holding up a hand to calm her down, “Just take-“

“Don’t _lady_ me!” She said, the table shaking harder as people began to stare, “And I know why you’re not watching me! It’s not…not, because- oh, you know! This isn’t my _best shirt_ you know!”

“Look, there’s been some misunderstanding,” Grant said smiling uneasily as he stood slowly up, “I think we’ve just-“

“What are you doing?” She asked, stepping away from Grant. Her eyes darted from his hands to the shaking chairs around the tables. “Why are they doing that?” Grant glanced around him and back to the woman.

“Just calm down,” He said, taking a slow step towards her and holding out a hand, “You just need to remain calm. When can sort this all out.”

“What? No, I am calm! I’m very calm.” She took another step back, slipping off the sidewalk and into the street. “I’m perfectly calm!” The chairs and tables around them bounced off the ground, sending their occupants tumbling to the ground as they landed with a loud bang, glass rattling and everything shaking around them, the ground quivering like an unseen tremor had passed below. Grant closed the distance between them and grabbed her by the arm, practically dragging her away with him. “Stop! Stop it!” She said, trying to pull away from him. Grant stopped walking and grabbed both of her arms, shaking her gently till she faced him.

“Hey!” He said, “Its ok. Just calm down.” She stopped shaking, looking down at his hands on her arms. “My name’s Grant Ward and I’m from an agency called SHIELD.”

“SHIELD?” She repeated, looking back at Grant. He nodded.

“Yes, SHIELD. It stands for-“

“I know what it stands for.” She interrupted. Grant looked at her in surprise.

“You know who we are?” She nodded slowly. “Then you know that I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to protect you, take you somewhere that you’ll be safe.”

“You mean like a prison?” She asked sarcastically, pulling out of Grant’s grip. “A prison, that’s where you put people like me, isn’t?”

“No, it’s not.” Grant said slowly, “Look, what’s your name?”

“Don’t you already know that?” Grant sighed.

“Humor me ok?”

“Fine,” She said sighing slightly and gripping her arms with her hands, shivering from head to foot like she was standing in the middle of a whirlwind, “My name’s Jemma. Jemma Simmons.” She pushed her glasses up, looking slowly up at Grant. “What do you really want from me?”

“I just want to keep you safe, Jemma.” _Keep you safe_. Since when had this case turned from _protecting the asset_ to _keeping the girl safe_? “There are people out there, who want to hurt you, use you for your…gifts.”

“Gifts?” She repeated, raising her eyebrows and chuckling nervously, “I don’t have any _gifts_. I’m not Captain America you know.”

“Then what just happened back there? An earthquake?”

“Oh, that…” Jemma’s voice trailed off as she looked back at the wrecked cafe behind them, “That’s not…” She looked back at Grant and shook her head, her voice staggering, “I-I don’t know.” She said softly, shaking her head again.

“Then come with me, Jemma. I can help you, keep you safe.” He took a step forward, trying not to let it show how good it felt when she didn’t try to step away from him again. He raised his hand towards Jemma’s, pausing before they touched. “May I?” She looked down at his hand and nodded slowly; releasing the death grip she had on her own arms. He gently took her hand, swallowing around the lump that had for some reason formed in his throat as she tightened her grip on his hand.

“Why are you doing this? You don’t even know me. Or is this all just part of the job?” Grant squeezed her hand slightly, giving her a small smile.

“Maybe you’re special.” She looked away, her cheeks turning a soft shade of pink. “And that _is_ a nice shirt.”

**Author's Note:**

> so this series (?) is based on two inspiring posts: [a](http://urfbownd.tumblr.com/post/58535671729/there-should-be-a-show-just-called-au-every) & [this lovely person's](http://ohmydarlingdear.livejournal.com/) trek au series _alternates_. updates will be periodical at best. :)


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